The Spirit World
by It'salreadycreeping
Summary: The first siege of Ba Sing Se has been unsuccessful, and the inhabitants of the Spirit World find that their peace is disturbed by a grieving man, searching for his son... A story about Iroh, his past, and his decisions for the future.
1. Prologue

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**The Spirit World - Prologue**

In the Spirit Swamp, nothing stirred.

A monkey meditated on a plinth, humming deeply and pondering the meanings of life, and time, and wisdom, but he didn't move. Every blade of brown-green grass was perfectly still; the murky water was so calm that it could have been glass.

Even the leaves in the canopy up above were stationary; the dappled shadows they cast over the swamp floor didn't once flutter. The whole place gave off a feeling of serenity, as though nobody had touched it for years; it seemed contented. The only sound was the quiet, hurried brushing together of cicada's wings.

But then, something broke the stillness and the quiet. A middle-aged man stumbled out from nowhere; he was disheveled, with unkempt hair and the rags of Fire Nation robes hanging off him, and he had a glint of something very close to madness in his eyes.

"My son," he called hoarsely. "Has anybody seen my son?"

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****A/N: So, this is an actual story, with _actual chapters! _Woot! Only seven, though... I can't do epics, my attention span is too sho**

**I don't own Avatar: TLA or any characters or settings. Thanks for coping with an abysmally short chapter.**


	2. The First Lesson

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**I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any settings or characters.**

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**The Spirit World: The First Lesson**

"Lu Ten? Lu Ten! _Where are you_?" Iroh stumbled forward. "LU TEN!" he hollered. His voice seemed to snap and then shatter into hundreds of shards on the last syllable, and a sob so violent that it shook his whole body coursed through him.

The monkey, disturbed from his meditation by the ruckus, opened his eyes. "You won't find him here, you know," he said in a bored, silky, patronizing drawl. "And in the Spirit World, shouting does you little good anyway."

Iroh turned to the monkey. His face was contorted by rage, grief and frustration; he looked half wild. Striding slowly, deliberately towards the spirit, he looked dangerous enough to make even the bravest warrior quail. The monkey, however, did not move a muscle. It watched him like a king might watch a peasant – with mild, condescending curiosity.

"Do you think I care?" Iroh said in a harsh, icy whisper. "Do you think I care? My son is gone – I want to find him! I _need _to find him! _Tell me where he is._"

"No," the monkey said simply. "Now come and sit by me." He gestured to a space on the plinth beside him.

"I've got no time for _sitting_!" Another sob jarred Iroh's ribs. "My son, my boy, he's gone – _gone_, and I must find him!"

"No, no, I insist. After all, it _is _a great honour to sit beside a spirit." The monkey raised an eyebrow and, just like that, Iroh found himself sitting on the plinth.

"How did you – how –" he spluttered, but then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He buried his face in his hands. His shoulders rose as he took in a deep breath, and when he looked back up at the monkey, his face was impassive, though tears were still wet on his cheeks. "Help me," he implored quietly.

"I am helping you," the monkey replied simply. "You moved me by your terrible grief," he added acerbically. "Grief that _obviously _nobody has _ever _felt before. And judging by the way you are treating me, you aren't very grateful."

"How is this helping me?" Iroh asked furiously. The semblance of calm he had managed a moment before vanished – it was too hard to keep the façade in place. He tried to stand up, but found that some mysterious force was making him sit down. It was the worst kind of torture. "I need to go – I need to _do _something! If you won't let me go, then I'll – I'll –"

"You'll what?" the monkey asked snidely. "You can't move, and I'm not letting you go anyway."

"But I –"

"You think you know everything?" The monkey laughed, baring his sharp teeth and shrieking hysterically at the canopy. Iroh, scared into silence by the sight of those glittering fangs, simply watched him, hands clenched into fists, teeth gritted. "Do you know how many people have come to me, wanting their loved ones back? I have been sitting here since time out of mind, pondering the meaning of everything – I was _so close _when you disturbed me – and I know more than any mortal. I know what's best here."

"I don't have time for this," Iroh replied shortly, but he couldn't get up. Instead, he turned away from the monkey. Grief ripped at his insides like a wolf, tearing him with sharp teeth, trying to break free.

"Oh, don't you? How do you know? In the Spirit World, time doesn't run at a constant speed. But, of course, being the all-knowing being that you are, I'm sure you already understand that which it took me an age to comprehend."

"I don't care."

The monkey tutted, shaking his head. "Yes, you do," he said, in a voice that was suddenly much softer. "Poor little mortal. Your lives are so fleeting, and so brief! No wonder you have no time for patience. Running around, shouting, always hurrying to the next thing; I pity you, truly I do, even if you are all stupid." Iroh didn't respond to being called stupid. He didn't care about anything – nothing but finding his son. He tried, once again, and unsuccessfully, to break the bonds that kept him sitting down. "Have a cup of tea," the monkey told him softly, and at that Iroh's head jerked sharply around to the monkey.

"A _cup of tea?_" he asked in enraged astonishment. "You're right – I don't have time, I need to find Lu Ten –" another sob – "and then I'll take him home, and –" Iroh shook his head, closing his eyes. "I hate…" he said, but he wasn't sure what he hated.

The monkey? War? Grief? Death itself? It didn't much matter what he hated. The only thing – the _only _thing – that mattered was his son. He needed Lu Ten.

"No, no, I insist," the monkey said pointedly, and gave Iroh a cup of steaming tea that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"I don't want tea! I want my son!"

"Drink," was all the monkey would say. So Iroh, a look of unimaginable hatred, grief and frustration twisting his features, slowly brought the cup to his lips and drank. He didn't have any choice.

The strong, sweet tea was warm in his mouth. Iroh closed his eyes. When he swallowed, he felt as though it was coursing hotly through every vein, as comforting as a mother's touch or the smell of a childhood memory. It seemed to mix with his frustration and anger, and evaporate it, so all that was left was a middle-aged man, heartbroken, grieving for his son.

"Jasmine," he murmured in an infinitely vulnerable tone. Then he lowered the cup, looked at the monkey, and continued in a stronger voice. "How did you -?"

"It's one of your favourites, I know," smiled the monkey. "Now. Do you feel better?"

"Yes." The urgency that possessed Iroh a moment ago had gone, replaced by a calm sort of purpose. The grief was still there – it ravaged his insides, horrible though now containable – but there was no longer any frustration inside of him. He felt… refreshed, though somehow weaker than he had a minute before. "Yes, I do." He took another sip of the tea, reveling in the way it made him feel.

The monkey glanced down at Iroh's hands, which had unclenched in his lap. "Good," he said. "Do you think you are ready to continue with your journey?"

Iroh thought about it for a moment. "No," he said truthfully. "I need to sit for a bit, and think."

"Even better," the monkey said thoughtfully. "Have some more tea. While you're sitting there, I'm going to go back to meditation, and I'd take it as a kindness if you did _not _disturb me." He closed his eyes and began to hum tonelessly, but then he stopped again, seeming to remember something else he'd meant to say. "And remember – patience is the key. It might not make you any happier, but it makes things easier. Ohm…"

Iroh realised that whatever had been forcing him to sit down had released its grip on him. He crossed his legs, and drank some more tea, and thought about his son – where he'd look next, what he would say to Lu Ten when he finally found him. He could already see that joyful reunion.

After half an hour, he was ready to go on. Not wanting to disturb the monkey, who was meditating and paying no attention to the mortal he had helped, Iroh said his thanks silently, in his head, before moving on.

** A/N: What did you think? Was it a bit too soppy – I sorta think that myself, actually, specially the "Yes. Yes, I do" bit which is really overused – or was it good? Have to say, I sorta like the writing in this, even though what's actually happening ain't my favourite thing. **

** Oh, and yeah, has anyone found any good Iroh fics to read? I've been looking… but a story about Iroh which is NOT focusing on Zuko is pretty flippin' hard to find. So, yeah, that's something good you can do :D If you want to earn your brownie point.**

** As always, constructive crit is the MOST welcome, tho compliments make me glow inside and flames make my eyes burn. Heh.**

** Bye. Oh, yeah, and thanks for reading…**


	3. The Second Lesson

**A/N: Man, was this a b1****ytch to write. Seriously, half of it's been festering on my laptop since when I posted the prologue, and the other half… eh, well, it's not too much good. Sorry. If it wasn't for and the lovely reviews and tips I got on the last chapter, I'm not sure whether I'd even have finished it. So thank you, reviewers! Thank you very, very much!**

**I don't own Avatar, any characters or settings in this.**

**Also, I tried the show-characters'-feelings-not-tell thing, but****… this sounds stupid… I'm not entirely sure whether I'm doing it right ;-- It'd be nice to say, if you know. Thanks.**

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**The Second Lesson**

Where to go next? Iroh strode through the marshes. Thick, straw-like grass bent beneath his heavy boots; sometimes he had to wade through boggy water, thick with mud and dead insects. It stank and seeped into his clothing, freezing him, but he didn't care. The whole of his mind, every particle of him, was focused on one thing and one thing only – Lu Ten.

After an hour, the taste of the jasmine tea on the insides of his lips was fading; he didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The swamp was a bland, unchanging landscape – he might as well be going nowhere, and he had not seen another living being since the monkey. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white.

"Hello?" he called, although he knew now that it didn't change anything. "_Hello_?" and then, in a softer voice that spoke of years of tucking him in at night, of smiling at him from across the dinner table, of hugging him, "_Lu Ten_?"

No reply. Of course.

But then, from the direction of a great tree with a knotted, twisted trunk that ten men holding hands would not have been able to circle, there came a groan – a deep, moaning rumble that spoke of infinite age and tiredness, a groan that reverberated deep inside Iroh's stomach and sent shivers up his spine.

It sounded like something was in pain. Iroh glanced around, searching for the movement of another creature, but didn't spot anything: the noise must be coming from behind the tree.

"Hello? Are you all right? Hello?" _What does it matter anyway_? Iroh thought. _I need to find my son_.

But, he reasoned, he had all the time in the world for that. And this thing, whatever it was that was making such a terrible noise, might be able to give him some directions.

He approached the tree. "Who's there?" he called, knocking on the trunk – and was surprised to find that it was hollow. How could something that looked so sturdy on the outside really have only air within?

There was another moan – it was definitely coming from behind the tree, so Iroh waded through the thick, stinking mud around its base to get there. "Hello?" There was nobody there, but he found a door-sized hole in the back of the tree, leading into the hollow interior. It was just his height; he took this as an omen, and stepped confidently inside.

"Hello?" he asked again, in a lower voice. The interior of the tree was quiet and muggy and damp, with the smell of wet bark hanging in the air, the smell which he associated with walking in a forest the morning after a rainy night. "Is anybody in here?"

"No," came a deep voice, a voice that was so low and solid that it could have been coming from the very center of the earth. Iroh spun around. His eyes were adjusting to the gloom now – he searched for the source of the voice. "There is nobody in here."

"But –" Iroh glanced around the gloomy interior to make sure he couldn't see anybody. "But then, where are you?"

The voice laughed – it was a chuckle that shook the earth and made the bones in Iroh's ear knock against each other painfully. "You should know," it said, "considering that you are inside of me."

"But I'm not –" Iroh's voice trailed off as realization dawned in his eyes. "You're the _tree_?"

"Yes," said the great oak. "I am."

"Do you, um," Iroh tried to think of a way to put it without sounding too mad, "do you want me to get out of you?"

"Oh, no." The olds tree chuckled warmly. "It is quite a comfortable feeling, actually."

"Oh." Iroh wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Are you… are you in pain at all?" He sat slowly down – the floor consisted of hard, dry mud, carpeted by myriad wet, half-decomposed leaves.

"No, I am not in pain. I was moaning because I was bored."

"Bored?" Iroh shook his head at the craziness of this conversation. "Well, if you're not in pain, I need some help – desperately –" His eyes started to sting, so he shut them. How could he have forgotten, even for a second? "My son… my _son_ – Lu Ten –" He gritted his teeth. "I need directions."

"Directions?" asked the tree, amused. "They would do you no good. The Spirit World is different for everybody. Would you have me draw a **map** of it for you?"

Iroh tried to work out the logistics of that – how exactly could a tree draw a map? – but, abandoning the thought, he shook his head. "No, but I want… I need… help. Please," he added quickly.

"Help," repeated the old tree. "But I **am** helping you. I'm giving you shelter – which, by the way, I do not lend to everybody. And in return, you are helping me."

"But I'm not doing anything," replied Iroh, puzzled.

"You are relieving my boredom," the tree told him, and it moaned. "Ever since I was forced to come down here, hundreds of years ago, I have longed for company… and when I finally get it, all you want is to move on…"

"But I need to find my son," pressed Iroh. The tree didn't reply, and as Iroh processed the tree's little speech in his head, he realized he had not given the appropriate response. "I mean… I'm sorry you were so bored." He paused for a second before continuing, his manners conflicting with his curiosity. Curiosity won in the end. "Why were you forced to come down here?"

"Oh, circumstances, circumstances…" mumbled the tree. "Nothing you need to know." But he was pleased at the attention, Iroh could tell.

"What were you before? Were you a tree in the real world?" Iroh thought that maybe, if he kept showing interest, the old tree would warm to him and give him directions. It might seem mad to be talking to an oak, but anything was better than nothing; and nothing was what he had had before, wandering through the swamp.

"I was an Earth Kingdom noble," the tree told him.

"Earth Kingdom?" Iroh shook his head. "You can't have been."

"Why not?" the tree asked. There was no aggression in the question, just intense curiosity, born out of years of solitude and boredom.

"Well, because…" Iroh paused. "I'm trying to put this as tactfully as I can. You seem too… well, too _wise _to be from the Earth Kingdom."

The tree laughed again; the sound throbbed through the air like the beat of a drum. "Is that the reason?" Iroh, stiffly, nodded. He remembered sitting on the back of a rhinoceros, staring up at the great wall of Ba Sing Se for the first time. He remembered the expressions of the Earth Kingdom soldiers, brutal, twisted, _murderous_. And, most painfully of all, he remembered Lu Ten, pale and motionless on the battlefield, an Earth Kingdom sword in his chest and a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"There are plenty of wise people in the Earth Kingdom, child," the tree told him sternly. "Hmm," he pondered, more to himself than to Iroh. "Then again, there are plenty of stupid people too… But on the other hand…"

"I'm not a child, I'm fifty-one. My son… my _son _was still a child –"

"Fifty-one!" roared the tree mirthfully. "And you claim not to be a child!"

The tree's ability to find humour in Iroh's every sentence was testing his nerves. _Patience, _he reminded himself, but it was hard; Lu Ten, lying on the battlefield, was drowning his mind and a great wave of pure sadness hit him and almost washed him away. "I need help!" Iroh shouted. "Are you going to give me it or should I just leave?" He stood up, but regretted his outburst as soon as the last word had left his lips.

There was silence for what must have been a minute – Iroh was sure the tree had decided to ignore him. He couldn't let that happen. Forcing himself to sit down again and unclench his fists, wishing he had some more jasmine tea, he muttered a brief 'sorry'.

"I can see you need help, Iroh," said the tree eventually. It did not surprise Iroh that the oak knew his name. "You have a very restricted view of the world around you."

"What? What does that mean?"

"You must learn to respect your fellow man," the tree replied solemnly. Iroh tried to remain calm.

"I can't respect the Earth Kingdom troops. Not after what they did to my son. And – and anyway, that isn't the sort of help I need! I need you to tell me where I can find my son – er – _please_."

"The Earth Kingdom soldiers were protecting their own sons from the same unfortunate fate that yours met," said the tree gently, with the air of talking to somebody so emotionally unstable that they might try to hurt him at any time. "Do not blame them."

"Then who should I blame?" Iroh looked around at the inside of the tree, wishing there was some sort of face for him to fix his gaze upon, so that he could glare at the great oak. Maybe if he saw his face, the tree would realize just how much Lu Ten meant to him, and just how much he wanted – no, _needed _– him back. "Who?"

"Blaming somebody will not bring your son back," the tree told Iroh sadly. "You know that."

"I do – but I know what _will_ bring him back! Don't you see? I need you to help me to find him!"

"I cannot help you to find your son; not, at least, until I have helped you to understand."

"Understand what?" If he played along, and pretended to learn a lesson, the tree would tell him what he should do to find Lu Ten. _Lu Ten…_

"You can work that out for yourself," replied the kindly oak, "once I have shown you."

"Shown me what?" Iroh waited for an answer, but it didn't come. "Show me wha – oh!"

A man had just walked into the tree. He was taller than Iroh, with broad shoulders and a strong face, but he looked so weary he could barely stand, and, though his face showed no emotion, there was grief glinting in his eyes. None of those things would be remarkable, however, in these troubled times – what surprised Iroh most about him was not the fact that he was here, but that he was wearing the clothing of a Water Tribe Warrior. He was carrying a spear in his hand, but the head had been snapped in half, rendering it blunt and useless. Iroh was glad of that; he was sure the man would stab him if he had the chance, just as Iroh was getting ready, surreptitiously of course, to blast the man into oblivion at the first sign of trouble. To his surprise, however, the warrior sat down on the ground before him.

"You cannot hurt each other while you are inside me," rumbled the tree. "Put down your weapons. Sit." Both Iroh and the warrior obeyed. What else could they do? The tree seemed to possess the ability to control the actions of the people inside it, albeit with wise words and gentle persuasion.

"Now," commanded the tree. "Talk."

Iroh glared at the warrior opposite him, undisguised hatred burning through his eyes. "I don't want to talk to _him_."

The tree did not reply but, to Iroh's puzzlement, the warrior did. "Please," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."

Iroh laughed. "Of _course _you want to hurt me. That's all the Water Tribe Warriors ever do – you're savages, the lot of you."

The warrior shook his head, and then looked down at the leafy floor. "If you think so."

"I _do _think so." But something about his demeanour prevented Iroh from elaborating. Instead, he just sat there, watching the warrior as he fiddled with the furry edge of his cloak. The silence in the air was almost tangible. They sat like that for almost ten minutes, and the only one of them who seemed contented with the quiet was the tree, who exuded an aura of calm, solid patience. Iroh thought it was a pleasant sort of aura to have, and tried to do that himself; to sit back, and simply enjoy the peace. After all, he had never been able to share such a small space with a Water Tribe person without fighting with them, and that was something.

Eventually, the warrior sighed and spoke. "Who are you?"

Iroh replied on instinct: "General Iroh of the Fire Nation." He paused. "Iroh."

"Ayak," replied the Water Tribe man. "Master Ayak."

"I've heard about you!" Iroh stood up. "You're famous – you're a barbarian – you killed a Fire Nation ship full of families!" He remembered Lu Ten bringing him the news. Lu Ten, whose eyes had been bright with grief for the families he never even knew; Lu Ten, who was always so kind, so gentle, yet so brave, willing to die for his country; Lu Ten, who was dead now, lying cold in the slimy mud with a blank face and blank eyes.

"It was a mistake," replied the man glumly. He didn't sound like he was jumping to his own defence; he seemed genuinely sorry, and was trying just to explain fairly. "We had intelligence reports… A Fire Nation army ship… And we attacked without thinking." He looked up at Iroh, and each of them saw their own expression – grieving, racked with guilt for something that was not their fault – on the other's face. Understanding, hot and strong, passed between them.

"I know what it's like," mumbled Iroh, sitting back down. "I was responsible for many deaths in my time as a general." For the first time, he did not think of Lu Ten, but of the countless broken bodies of Earth Kingdom soldiers – the ones he had never cared about before.

"It's hard."

"I know."

The Water Tribe warrior left, without another word. He seemed to melt into the mist more quickly than he should have done. Iroh stared at the place where the warrior had been for minutes on end, thinking about the soldiers he had killed, however indirectly; thinking of their bodies, of their faces (which he couldn't put a name to), and of their families; of their wives, their children, their fathers.

The meeting had _disturbed _him. Ayak, who was the monster in children's' storybooks, was no less human than he himself was. "You are unsettled," stated the tree. "I can feel you shaking through my floor."

Iroh gritted his teeth. "Nonsense." And then he remembered something else: Ayak had died a year ago.

"Wouldn't you like to meet somebody else?"

"No –" But it was too late. A woman had walked in. She was very small, with a neat face, but with dishevelled hair and muddy streaks on her skin. She might have been a farmer's wife; her hands were rubbed red and raw, and her face and arms were sprinkled with many brown freckles, like ink splattered from a brush. Her eyes, when she looked at Iroh nervously, were a deep moss-green. Her simple clothes were brown and green – she was from the Earth Kingdom.

She took in his ragged red robes, and her eyes widened; she stepped back. "Don't hurt me," she whispered.

"I can't." Iroh shrugged. "You might as well sit down." And then, to the tree: "What are you expecting me to get out of this?" But the tree, once again, had fallen silent.

The woman sat as far away from him as possible. She shot him a glance full of hatred – and to Iroh's surprise, that _hurt_. "I told you – I'm not going to harm you. You don't have to be afraid." If he had expected the same immediate understanding that he'd got from Ayak, he was mistaken.

"I'm not afraid," spat the woman. "I'm _angry_. You're a terrible person, you know that? You try to defeat everyone you meet – you kill people – and for what? Why do you hurt people so much? Do you _enjoy _it?" Now she knew he couldn't hurt her, she seemed determined to speak her mind.

Iroh reeled backwards as though physically hit. "Of course I don't enjoy it." He'd always thought of himself as a kind person – ruthless, it was true, when the job called for it – but he had always given beggars money, and been polite to people, and smiled at children. _Fire Nation _children, naturally. "It's just something that has to be done."

"Why?" The woman clenched her fists. "Who does it help?"

Iroh looked down at the ground. The truth was, he had no answer. "It's a war. People get hurt - that's just what happens."

"But it's hardly a war, is it? It's _slaughter_."

"The Earth Kingdom fights back. If they didn't fight –"

"Then we'd be under occupation. Are you saying that the Fire Nation would stop, if only our soldiers were nice and meek and submissive? Is that what you're saying?"

Iroh shook his head. He didn't know.

"I had a son," said the woman, her voice shaking. "I had a son, and he went off to fight." She paused, and a shadow stained her face. "He never came back."

Iroh secured her gaze. "That's something we have in common. My son died in battle; I'm here to find him."

She shook her head. "Your son died trying to attack. Mine died to defend. You should never, _ever _be proud of him – not ever. And you say we're the barbarians," she spat, her voice full of so much venom that it was hard for Iroh to pretend it wasn't there.

"Go away," he told her.

"I will." The woman walked out of the tree, disappearing into the distance unnaturally quickly.

"How was that?" asked the tree kindly.

Iroh paused. "It… it wasn't nice," he admitted, immediately regretting his words. "But she's wrong! The Fire Nation is great and glorious, and those peasants are fools for not trying to be enlightened!"

The tree chuckled gently. "Iroh, the Fire Nation makes just as many mistakes as any other."

Iroh snorted. "If you say so."

"Would you like to –"

"_NO!_" Even Iroh was surprised by the force with which his words came out – they seemed to shake the very ground. He didn't want to face any more truth, any more hatred, any more death. _Please_, he thought, _just let me go back to yesterday. Let me go back to when Lu Ten was alive, and everything was simple…_

A little girl tiptoed into the tree – and the sight of her shocked Iroh into silence. She had very long, black hair. Her face was birdlike, and her eyes were full of the freedom of the sky; every one of her movements spoke of grace, of freedom, of _air_.

She wore orange-and-yellow robes.

Iroh shut his eyes.

"Hello?" she said in a mellow, kind tone. The sound of her voice was unreal, because how could she be real? This little girl couldn't exist, and yet she was here, standing opposite him, talking to him. _I won't look at her. Please make her go away. _"Sir? Hello?" Iroh felt a small, gentle hand on his shoulder, and, reluctantly, he opened his eyes. She was standing before him, her honest, open face mere inches from his own. "Are you feeling unwell?"

_Yes_, was what Iroh wanted to say – the sight of her made him feel sick – but he wouldn't say that to any child. "No, no - just tired."

The little girl grinned. "Grown-ups are always tired, always sitting and meditating instead of playing and running around like they should. Plus, they're always drinking tea." She pulled a face.

Iroh laughed despite himself. The girl was so bright and lively, it was _impossible _not to laugh; Iroh even thought he heard the tree chuckle. "That is true."

"I don't like tea, especially the stuff my master makes to help me concentrate. It's horrible, and it doesn't work, but I suppose he tries." She sat, cross-legged, on the floor before Iroh, looking up at him with a bright, expectant gaze; she looked so much like Lu Ten used to, when Iroh told him a bedtime story, that he had to close his eyes again for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" she asked conversationally. "I'm Jenja, by the way." Her eyes widening as she remembered her manners, she pressed her small fists together and bobbed her head quickly, almost instinctively. Iroh followed her lead.

"I'm Iroh, and I'm… I'm looking for my son."

The girl laughed. "What is your son going to be doing here?"

Iroh took a deep breath. "He – he died." To his surprise, he sounded almost… calm. Jenja's face was solemn as she gazed at him.

"That's terrible," she said quietly. She seemed so genuinely sad that it was all Iroh could do to prevent himself from sobbing once again. The little girl leaned closer, her eyes bright. "I…" She lowered her voice. "I think I might be dead too. It was all sunny, and we were playing, but then my glider caught fire and I fell." She bit her lip, worried. "I couldn't airbend, it all happened so suddenly, and then… I woke up in all this mud, and I was in a swamp." A terrible thought seemed to hit her. "You're not dead, too, are you?"

"No," Iroh managed. "I'm very much alive." _But you're _not. Iroh tried to find a way around that in his mind. Wasn't it possible she had survived?

No. It wasn't. Every airbender had been wiped out nearly a hundred years ago. Iroh knew all the details of the attack; he had studied them as a boy, poring over textbooks the night before a test, the words swimming before his eyes. He found that he was ashamed, now, to think that the only things that had been going through his mind as he studied were _history is boring _and _I'm too tired for this_.

"Well," smiled the little girl, "Then I suppose I'm not either." Satisfied, she stood up. "Do you know how to fly a kite?"

"I do." Iroh had made one for Ozai, when they were children. "But there's no wind."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm an airbender!" But when she tried to demonstrate, pushing her palms out in front of her, she frowned. "It's not working. Why can't I bend?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Something's happened."

Iroh nodded. "You're in the Spirit World. We both are."

The girl's eyes widened. "Then I must be…" She stopped. "No." Her eyes were bright. "I'm not dead, am I?" Urgently, she tapped Iroh on the back of his hand, her little fingers pressing into his skin. "You can feel me, can't you? I can't be dead!" There was an edge of desperation to her voice, of trying to keep herself from the truth. "Please tell me I'm not dead," she murmured.

Iroh didn't say anything. The girl stood up. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. She smiled sadly. "I don't mean to be rude, but… could I go?" She suddenly seemed a lot older.

Iroh nodded. "I'm sorry too," he said quietly. The girl walked out of the tree, and disappeared, but not before Iroh caught the sound of her sobs. They wrapped around his heart like thorny vines – and tightened.

"Why?" he shouted at the tree. "Why'd you show me that? What's the point? She's dead, and making me feel guilty about it won't change a thing!"

The old tree was silent.

"Why?" Iroh was sobbing now, for the little girl, for his son, for the _war_. For all the people who would die today, and tomorrow… "Why?" he kept asking. "Why?" He knelt on the ground, his back bent, his face hidden behind his palms. In the end, his sobs changed to hiccoughs, his hiccoughs to nothing. _Patience, _he reminded himself. The taste of jasmine tea filled his mouth and his mind. _I have to be patient. Maybe, if I stay here long enough, I'll know enough to stop it. _But stop what? The war? Impossible. Yet every day, more people were dying.

The tree spoke. "Iroh," it said. "I'm sorry to have shown you that."

Iroh shook his head. "I needed it. I was far too wrapped up in my own Nation – but, well… those other people seemed… human." He thought of the warrior's sadness, the mother's anger, the little girl's total horror towards the idea of a life less than perfect.

Humans seemed to have the endless capacity to separate themselves from other people. To convince themselves that they were different from others; to convince themselves that there was something about people who were different from _them _which made it all right to hate them. But what were they all, except humans on the earth? War didn't come with the earth did like the mountains did, or the animals or the trees. War was made by men, all convincing themselves that it was justified.

_When I go back home, with Lu Ten, I won't fight. _Iroh paused, stunned by the enormity of that fact. _I won't fight – because every time I attack a Water Tribe ship, it might be the wrong one. Because every time I kill another soldier, I am breaking another mother's heart. Because every time I order my men to attack a village, they are killing children._ He gritted his teeth, determined.

"I think," said the tree, "it's time for you to be moving on."

"Yes," Iroh agreed. "I've got to find my son."

* * *

**A/N: ****(And feel free to skip ;;) My sister asked me, when she read it, why I had OCs instead of using Pakku and Lee's mum and Gyatso or whoever, so I'm giving a reason in case that went through anyone else's mind: I wouldn't really classify the ones I used as characters; more like examples of the feelings of their nations, on the whole. Though I think, despite the fact that Air Nomads were peaceful, not all of them would have been just sad like that little girl was… Anyway. So I didn't use canon characters, because it would take away some of the surrealistic quality, or some other such nonsense.**

**Because this is getting way too surreal. I mean… **_**talking trees? **_**I have no idea where that came from, I swear…**

**A****nd yeah… the similarity between Iroh and the woman's conversation and Zuko and Katara's in CoD was intentional. Please don't hurt me.**

**Looks up: Whoa, I'm a self-absorbed little weasel. I won't have an author's note this long again, I swear. You don't come here to read my **_**thoughts**_**; you come here to read the gorram **_**story**_

**Thanks for reading. Constructive criticism is nice :) I really do appreciate every review that pops up in my e-mail. I'm currently pressing the send/receive button twice an hour, and counting! **


	4. The Third Lesson Pt 1

**A/N: I don't own Avatar: The Legend of Aang.**

* * *

**The Third Lesson, ****Part One**

Iroh paused before leaving the tree. "But where do I go?"

"Try climbing me," suggested the tree with a smile in its voice. Iroh, though puzzled, had begun to get accustomed to the odd (and often implausible) events that occurred at every turn in the Spirit World; he accepted this piece of advice with a simple nod.

"Thank you," he said, though those words sounded far too simple; how could he put into words the profound experience the tree had helped him through? Instead of trying to elaborate, Iroh briefly touched the tree's bark, closing his eyes for a second. It was as though he was proving his sincerity.

Then, Iroh looked up hopefully – and wanted to take back his thanks. How was he supposed to scale this tree? There were no footholds that he could see, just a mass of roots at the bottom, and then a trunk that shot straight up so high that just looking at it disappearing into the sky made him dizzy.

He gulped. "How?"

Instantly, he knew he'd get no response; the tree, now, was just as lifeless as the others surrounding it. Iroh had no idea where the tree's spirit was, but it had left him alone. He'd have to figure a way up by himself.

After a lot of scrambling and grunting, Iroh managed to get himself on top of the network of thick, snakelike roots that gathered around the foot of the tree, surrounding the little hollow where he had been a moment before.

Now for the hard part. Pressing his fingers into two small crevices he found in the bark, Iroh tried to lever himself up on finger strength alone, but after only a moment of trying, he saw the attempt for what it was: futile. Perhaps he should abandon the climb, and go about finding his son another way. Wouldn't that be easier?

But the tree had helped Iroh, even when he had not trusted it, and it would be ungrateful to disregard the last piece of advice he had been given.

No, he simply had to find another way up.

Easier said than done, of course.

Over the course of the next hour, Iroh tried every way he could think of of getting to the top of the tree; these attempts ranged from a complicated pulley system involving vines and branches from other trees, to simply _asking _the Spirit World to reveal a way to him. None of them worked. Iroh told himself to be patient; to take a step back; he jumped off the roots and stood a way away, and peered at it, trying very hard to imagine a way to climb the tree. He couldn't see one.

Next, he tried pressing his face so close to the bark that his eyes crossed. He wasn't sure what he was looking for – a lever, perhaps, that would reveal a ladder, or maybe instructions written into the whorls on the wood – but it seemed like as good an idea as any other he had tried so far.

The only thing he saw, though, was a tiny spider crawling across the bark. Watching its progress, Iroh shuffled backwards – his eyes were aching. He sighed as the spider crept purposefully around the tree. _At least one of us knows where it's going,_ Iroh thought bitterly. Why couldn't finding Lu Ten be easy?

No. _No_. That was a horrible thought; he was a father, and like any father, he would move mountains for his child. It didn't matter how difficult it was, how much it hurt him or challenged him, the search for his dead son _would _be successful. It _had _to be.

The spider disappeared around the trunk, out of sight.

Wait a second.

_Around _the trunk.

Maybe the problem wasn't with how far Iroh was from the tree – maybe it was simply that he was looking at things _from the wrong angle._

Tentatively, as though this was his last chance (and it might be), Iroh crept around the trunk as furtively as the spider had a moment before –

And nearly banged his head against a branch. A thick, accessible branch that looked as though it would hold the weight of several men his size. Looking up, Iroh realized that the other side of the tree was easily climbable; more branches of the same size and sturdiness protruded from the trunk at regular intervals. Amazed at how much help such a tiny insect could offer, Iroh scanned the bark for the spider, only to realize that it had disappeared.

Iroh began to ascend. It was easy and repetitive – he started to focus less on the climb, and more on his surroundings.

As he got further and further up the tree (forcing himself not to look down), Iroh noticed that the branches were warmer and rougher beneath his fingers. All around him there were leaves, green and bright, set on fire at the edges by bright sunlight. Flowers bloomed from branches in every shape and colour conceivable; their scent was intoxicating, even a little dizzying.

Iroh shook his head. At this height, the last thing he needed was to be dizzied. Dispelling all thought of flowers and leaves and sunlight from his mind, he gritted his teeth together and forced himself to focus less on the scenery and more on his mission.

Up and up and up. After Iroh had been climbing for an hour, he found himself losing strength. What was he expecting to find up here, anyway? A tree house, perhaps, like the one he had built for Lu Ten in his seventh summer? Iroh remembered that house; Lu Ten had even tried to knock in a few nails himself, nearly bawling the palace down when he'd hit his thumb instead. On the day when it had been officially 'opened', Lu Ten had insisted on an opening ceremony; his friends from firebending training had squeezed in, along with Iroh too, after much commotion.

They had had tea; jasmine tea, which was the only sort that Lu Ten ever liked, anyway. The house had been the source of much entertainment for summers on end.

Before Lu Ten had left for war for the first time, he had dismantled the tree house and – much to Iroh's surprise – burnt it. When Iroh asked Lu Ten what he was doing, his son didn't reply immediately. Lu Ten simply stood there, gazing into the flames, the firelight tingeing his skin with an eerie shade of orange. "There goes my childhood," he said, with a sad little smile on his face, as the smoke curled up into the air, lost against the dark night sky.

Suddenly, Iroh found himself coming to a place where the branches were thinner; they bent under his weight. He had reached the top of the canopy. Forced to stop by the increasing youth and weakness of the branches, Iroh sat himself on the thickest branch he could find, leaning back against the tree trunk.

"Hello?" he called, though he was mortally sick of the word by now. "Is there anybody here?"

Just then, wind rushed through the leaves, making them rustle against each other to give the rather sinister impression that they could talk to him. In fact, he was almost sure they were whispering his name. _"Iroh," _they murmured. _"Iroh…"_

"Who's there?" Iroh stood up on the branch, grabbing another for support; he braced himself against the wind, which was getting stronger now, colder, and shut his eyes against the sting of the freezing air. It howled all around him like an animal in pain, tearing at him from the inside out –

And then, just as rapidly as it had started, it stopped. There was complete silence. Slowly, carefully, Iroh opened one eye –

And almost fell off his branch. A woman was standing at the end of his branch, so light that the thinner wood did not even bend beneath her weight. In fact, when Iroh looked closer, she seemed to be made of nothing but light and air and freedom; he could see the pale green leaves of the canopy through her, slightly distorted by her shape.

"Sorry about the entrance," she said kindly, smiling apologetically. "I find it grabs people's attention better than just saying 'hello'. Quite sad, really." She took a step closer – Iroh pressed himself harder against the wood of the tree. "Don't be afraid," she said gently. "I don't want to hurt you, love…" She extended a slender, transparent hand towards Iroh. "What's your name?"

"Who are you?"

"Now, dear, please answer my question. It's quite important, you see; I don't like to talk to people when I don't know their names."

Iroh didn't reply. He was simply too shocked to say anything – this woman was far stranger than the talking tree had been. Somehow, although she was more humanoid, she lacked something in her eyes; this made her seem less of a person than the tree had sounded.

"Well, all right." She sighed, disappointed. "You don't have to tell me your name. Now, dear – would you like to come on a little journey with me?"

"A _journey_?" spluttered Iroh. "If I didn't want to tell you my name, why on earth would I go on a _journey _with you? I'm… I'm not even sure you exist."

The spirit-woman gazed at him with sad eyes. "Your son," she murmured. "I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm supposed to help you – by taking you somewhere."

Iroh looked into the strange woman's face; it was oddly blank, and he didn't like it, but it was kind, too – and he would do anything to find Lu Ten. "I'm not sure," he said again, slowly. "Where would you be taking me?"

"You'll see," smiled the woman. "All I need is for you to say yes."

Iroh paused for a moment, stumbling between yes and no. Surely there were other ways to find Lu Ten, without going on a 'journey' with a strange air-spirit? "Why?"

"I can't do anything without your permission, dear. Or, at least, I wouldn't want to – but please, come with me. I have some very important things to show you." Her hand was still extended towards him, and now Iroh took it uncertainly. It was surprisingly solid, the air pressing firmly against his skin.

"…Yes." Anything to find Lu Ten – anything at all.

The wind started up again, but it seemed warmer now, less of a threat. Instead of murmuring his name, the trembling leaves were making a different sound – one that was entirely incongruous with their surroundings. As the balmy air engulfed Iroh and the spirit-woman, he could swear he could hear the sound of a…

Then, in a rush of air and light and noise, Iroh and the spirit-woman disappeared, leaving a silent canopy, bright with sparkling sunlight.

* * *

What was that roaring sound? It sounded like the rumbling growl of a huge animal; Iroh wanted to look around, but his mind was still spinning. Where was he? He wasn't up the tree anymore – the ground beneath him felt more solid and rougher than wood, like rock. He blinked once, twice, to stop the world from blurring and tilting beneath his feet.

"We're at our first stop, dear," murmured the spirit-woman in his ear. "You might want to look around." Iroh did.

He was standing below a great mountain waterfall. Cold spray misted his face; moisture hung in the air like a solid thing. The rush of the water was roaring deafeningly; the sound filled the entire mountainside, ricocheting and rolling off grey rock like thunder. Water, the deep grey of a storm cloud, gushed down from a place so far above that Iroh was sure it must come from the clouds itself. Where sunlight struck the silky cascade, rainbows bounced off the water at sharp angles. It was a truly beautiful and awesome sight; Iroh, for a long time, was too mesmerized by the sheer power of the image to speak.

When he had regained some of his wits, he searched for the air-spirit, but she was nowhere to be seen. "Where are you? I thought you were helping me find –" Iroh realized that, for a moment, he had forgotten about Lu Ten. He turned away from the majestic waterfall, guilt bitter in his mouth. "Where are you?"

"Isn't it wonderful?" the spirit called back, but he still couldn't see her; her soothing voice (which was, oddly, not drowned out by the sound of the waterfall, as though it belonged to a different dimension altogether), seemed to be coming from the thick, misty air itself. "The waterfall; isn't it brilliant?"

"Yes – very wonderful – but are you sure you were meant to be taking me here?"

"Oh, yes! Don't you agree that this is a truly magnificent sight?" Now the spirit's voice was closer, as though she were speaking in his ear.

"Listen, I'm trying to be patient, but –"

"Look at it, just look at it!" Her voice was further away again, now; she seemed to be rippling through the air, drinking in every bit of the scenery.

Iroh balled his fists and shouted as loudly as he could. "I don't need to see this waterfall! I need to find my son!"

All of a sudden, the air before him seemed to thicken and gather in on itself, like a blanket being bunched up, and there was the spirit-woman, with her sylphlike form and her soft eyes. "I know. I know you do, Iroh, but can't you see? I'm taking you one step closer!" She gestured up at the waterfall as though it held the single answer to all his problems. Iroh didn't look at it, afraid he wasn't going to be able to tear his eyes away again. Instead, he lowered his gaze, focussing on the grim grey rock beneath his feet, and imagining he could see his son's face.

"I don't understand."

The spirit floated closer. "Don't you?" Gently, she put a hand under his chin and stared directly into Iroh's eyes, giving him the uneasy impression that she could read all his thoughts. "Oh, but you used to, I can tell! Before you went off to war…"

Iroh jerked his chin away sharply. "How do you know about that? How can you know about that when you don't even know my name?" He took a step back, his breathing heavy and harsh. This was too strange…

"Shall we continue on our journey?"

"No! I –" _Lu Ten. I have to find him_. "Yes."

The wind, thick and humid this time, swallowed them up once again, and when Iroh, coughing and spluttering, disentangled himself from its clutches, he was lying on his back in a meadow, the spirit-woman nowhere to be seen.

* * *

He took a deep breath in, then out again. The air was crisp and clean; it stung the back of his throat. Stalks of long grass climbed up above him, striping his face with their shadows. He squinted up at the sky – the sunlight was bright and clear – and spotted a lone hawk, wheeling through the wide blue heavens.

Iroh groaned. His ears were ringing from the sudden silence after the waterfall, and his limbs felt like lead. Suddenly, his adventures all caught up with him – the monkey, the tree, the fact that he had travelled further than he'd ever gone before – and all he wanted to do was sleep. Just to slip into nothing and forget, and to gain strength while he was doing it…

He couldn't, though. It was one thing to be patient, another thing entirely to deliberately _stop_. Wearily, Iroh sat up – or, at least, he tried to. As soon as he started to move, however, a pair of invisible hands pressed down on his chest, gentle but firm, forcing him to lie back down. "Stay for a moment, dear," murmured the air-spirit in his ear, and suddenly she was there, lying next to him. The stalks of grass seemed to grow straight through her body.

"I can't," insisted Iroh. "I can't just stop. I need to find Lu Ten."

"But you're tired, sweetie. Rest a second." The spirit's mellifluous voice was terribly persuasive.

"No." Iroh knew that if he let himself relax for even a second, then those short moments would spin out into hours – days, perhaps. "_No_."

"Lie down, be quiet, and _listen._"

"But –" Iroh tried to stand up once again. To his distress, he found he couldn't move – the same mysterious force that had held him in place with the monkey now kept him lying here. _Patience_, Iroh reminded himself, thinking of jasmine tea. Then he thought of the people he had met in the tree; how he had been sure they wouldn't make a difference, but they did. _I'll listen to what she has to say_.

"Can you hear the hawk?"

Iroh listened. Now he tried, he _could _hear it; a far-off cry, lonely and harsh. "Yes." He turned to look at the spirit. "But I don't see what –"

"Don't you think," interrupted the spirit as though she had not heard, "it's the saddest sound you ever heard?"

"Listen –"

"Have you smelt the air?" the spirit inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes with relish; Iroh, reluctantly but without much of a choice, followed suit. The air smelt of flowers, strangely intoxicating. As the scent filled his chest, Iroh felt his mind clog up; most of his coherent thoughts blended together, so that it was hard to concentrate on anything, and his eyelids were unreasonably heavy…

"Right. It's lovely. Really wonderful… but…" Iroh couldn't help it; he yawned. Feeling treacherous, he continued. "I need to find… I need to…" Another yawn. "What I'm saying is… I mean…"

"Why don't you sleep now?" asked the spirit kindly. "Patience is important, yes, but so is stopping to enjoy the world."

And oh, Iroh wanted to sleep so very much. How wonderful it would be, to pretend he was back in his bed in the palace, with Lu Ten (in his dreams, a boy again) sleeping just down the corridor… "Lu Ten," he murmured, and as quickly as drowsiness had come upon him, it fell off again like a badly fitting robe. "I'm sorry, but I can't sleep."

The spirit nodded. "All right. I understand, dear. But don't you agree that this place is so peaceful? So calm?"

"It is," Iroh replied guardedly, "but I can't just lie here and appreciate it."

"Why not? You'll never be here again, will you? You'll only have this one chance to admire it, ever."

Iroh stopped, and thought about it. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Of course you do," replied the spirit calmly. "I just hope you make the right one. _Enjoy the moment_."

Iroh sighed. The sun was warm on his face and, although he wasn't hopelessly fatigued like he had been a moment before, he wouldn't mind a bit of peace. Just some peace, so that he could think about what he was going to do next – and enjoy the meadow – and maybe, to wonder just what exactly this spirit was supposed to be helping him with…

After an hour of sitting, Iroh was feeling much better. Calmer. Stronger. Ready to find Lu Ten. Steady determination shone through his eyes as he tried to sit up, and found that this time, he could. He called for the spirit. She materialized in a moment.

"Are you ready to continue?"

"Yes." Iroh paused. "And thank you. You're right; the meadow _was _beautiful. And peaceful. And… and I'm glad you made me stop."

The spirit-woman laughed airily. "I never _made _you! Now come along." Abruptly, the smile dropped from her features, replacing itself with an expression as solemn as a sage's. "Things are going to get harder, now," she warned him quietly.

Iroh gulped. "What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you, just like you couldn't tell me your name. It wouldn't be right." The spirit smiled. "But you're going to find out – and it isn't bad news! It's the most wonderful, the most amazing –"

"Can we carry on?"

"Of course." And in a rush of clear sunlight and cool air, Iroh was taken somewhere else.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what I'm doing wrong/could be doing better, especially about pacing etc, which is hard. It was difficult to get Iroh to have the proper reactions to what was happening, while balancing it out with the fact that he's got more used to the weird things that happen, and also trying to keep the pace up to stop boring the readers. The description was fun!**

**Sorry about the length of time between updates. Part Two of the Third Lesson will be up sooner, and is probably more interesting/relevant than the first part ;)**

**Have a nice day!**


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